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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202868">hold me; don't hold me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcelmo/pseuds/calcelmo'>calcelmo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baseball, F/M, Huddling For Warmth, Infidelity, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, yes you read that correctly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:41:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcelmo/pseuds/calcelmo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan buys a property in Romania and spends a few weeks renovating it. Chris Redfield lends him a hand. </p><p>~</p><p>Set prior to the events of Resident Evil Village... without actually knowing what those events are.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chris Redfield/Ethan Winters, Ethan Winters/Mia Winters, Piers Nivans/Chris Redfield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hold me; don't hold me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from the song Celestica by Crystal Castles -</p><p>  <em>When it's cold outside, hold me; don't hold me</em><br/>When I choose to rest my eyes, coax me; don't coax me</p><p>I am so excited to present this fic; I hope it doesn't fall flat. This pairing (the first in the tag, I believe?) is really important to me as I've been thinking about it for a while, considering their dynamic. </p><p>In this setting, Chris has a good relationship with the Winters post-Baker Ranch and considers Ethan a close friend. Ethan and Mia's child is called Eveline, because I think that's COOL. I chose Romania because they're confirmed to be in Europe, and I think there was some kind of leak where the in-game currency had the same name as Romanian currency. I don't know. Go easy on me if the game comes out and everything I've predicted is hilariously inaccurate.</p><p>To anyone who thinks 'uhh, this would never happen, straight guys don't do this shit'- trust me, you'd be surprised.</p><p>Your comments would mean the world to me!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ethan’s world gets smaller and smaller until everything is contained on a remote foreign mountaintop. Friends are left behind. Family is cut off, and he trades office workspace for the cobwebbed, bare-beamed interior of their new home. </p><p>For two months straight, he spends the daylight hours renovating the ramshackle lodge into something he’d be happy to shelter his wife and daughter in. It’s only the first week that he’s alone. </p><p>The blizzard hits that morning, and howls away through the day. Ethan makes himself a cup of cocoa and sits, freezing cold, wrapped up in blankets on a moth-eaten mattress. The hammering at the door could almost be the wind, which is why it takes him a while to realize it’s another human being.</p><p>Not bothering to discard the blanket he’s using as a shawl, he sets down his mug and tentatively pulls the door open. Standing there is the last person he’d expect to see in this corner of the Earth. He forgets his manners and kind of stares, squinting against the snow-glare. </p><p>“...Is that a TV?” </p><p>“I’ve been standing out in the cold for at least fifteen minutes,” Chris says, gentle and pointed at the same time.</p><p>“Sorry,” Ethan mutters. “I thought it was the wind.” His teeth clack together, and he shivers, pulling the blanket closer around himself. “Come in. What are you doing here?” He sounds nervous even to his own ears, still unable to kick that trauma response.</p><p>Chris steps inside, and the room becomes noticeably more quiet when the door seals out the screaming gale. He’s appropriately dressed in winter gear, but sensibly doesn’t comment on Ethan’s bright, knitted attire. He puts the television set on the floor. </p><p>“Everything’s fine,” Chris tells him, before he gets into any further explanation. Ethan is deeply grateful, despite mildly humiliated, that Chris recognizes the need to reassure him. </p><p>“I was talking to Mia, and she said you could probably use some help down here. She wants you to get it done as soon as possible so you guys can be together again,” Chris explains. </p><p>“So you came all the way to Europe?” Ethan raises his eyebrows. Chris grins in lieu of an answer. </p><p>“Do you want a drink?”</p><p>“That’d be great. I was in the area, actually."</p><p>"Really," Ethan deadpans.</p><p>"You'd be surprised," Chris shrugs. He takes the proffered cocoa and takes a sip. "God, that's good. It's fucking freezing out here. You didn’t want to pick anywhere a little warmer?”</p><p>“The further away from civilization, the better,” Ethan says. It sounds grim, and he regrets the pessimistic tone immediately. He picks his cocoa back up and uses it to warm his hands. “So, uh... did you want to stay here? I don’t have another mattress…”</p><p>Chris barks out a laugh, and Ethan watches him warily. “I’m used to worse. We'll work something out.”</p><p>“Oh. In the air force?”</p><p>“Not even that,” Chris smiles wryly. “Claire and me didn’t have it easy growing up.”</p><p>Ethan knows that Chris has a sister, and that they’re very close. He realizes he knows little else about Chris’ home life, although he doesn’t think he has any family or children. It’s strange that Chris has become part of Ethan’s family, hovering on the sidelines, always checking in and lightening the atmosphere when the Winters become too absorbed in the past. </p><p>It was Chris who suggested the name for their baby. At the time, he was joking. He never expected Mia to latch onto the opportunity to rewire their negative response to the name. </p><p>He often found ways to make their lives easier. Small things, recommendations. It became clear that Chris had a long history with living nightmares, and his golden advice was stemming from personal experience.</p><p>They work well together, in the lodge. Ethan’s hands aren’t as good as they used to be, and Chris knows what he’s doing, has a decent DIY portfolio. Together it takes them half the time it would take for Ethan to complete a task on his own, although he would’ve gotten it done. </p><p>He’s glad for the TV. He hadn’t had time to set one up, or settle down to watch it. He’s never missed a World Series before, not when the Dodgers were playing. Chris likes baseball too, and in the early days, that was something that brought them together. Some normality after the horrors they’d seen.</p><p>On the night of Game Five, Chris has stayed here for four days, Ethan's been here for almost two weeks. He gets a couple of beers from the fridge, because he might not have a TV, but he wouldn’t stay anywhere without access to drink. Sometimes he needs it. The TV is small, and they perch it on a folding chair. Ethan sits on his bed, and Chris takes the other rickety chair. </p><p>“Mia let you watch this?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ethan laughs. “That’s non-negotiable.”</p><p>“See, Claire likes it too, so it’s not an issue with her.”</p><p>“So you still don’t have a girlfriend?”</p><p>Chris takes a sip of his beer. </p><p>“I’m gay,” he says.</p><p>Ethan takes his eyes off the screen to blink at him. Chris is still watching the game, but there’s a muscle jumping in his jaw. Ethan is half waiting for him to say “just kidding, man”, but the silence stretches on into awkwardness.</p><p>Chris Redfield is pretty much the opposite of the image Ethan’s mind conjures up in response to the word 'gay'. That puts paid to the idea that you can always tell. What the fuck? It’s almost funny, but it also feels like the key to a really important part of Chris’ personality that Ethan’s been oblivious to this entire time. </p><p>He should probably feel uncomfortable, but he doesn’t. Maybe it’s the alcohol. It’s not that he’d flip out, but... he might become acutely aware of the fact that he’s spending his holidays alone in a cabin with his gay best friend instead of his wife and kid. That’s bound to speak volumes.</p><p>“I should go,” Chris murmurs, shifting away.</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ethan says automatically.  </p><p>Chris pauses. </p><p>“It’s not a problem.”</p><p>It isn’t. It’s just going to take some getting used to. And now Ethan isn’t paying attention to the World Series, he’s thinking about the way Chris vehemently refuses to share his mattress, and how he’s never so much as put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder.</p><p>Chris downs the rest of his beer. “You’re,” he swallows, “the third person in the world to know that.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Ethan’s surprised. </p><p>“I didn’t mean to say anything, but…” he gestures to the bottle of lager which has fallen over on the floorboards. </p><p>“It’s okay. Let’s just… finish the game.”</p><p>Fortunately enough, the strange atmosphere dissipates quickly. Ethan swears, so loud that the folks in the village a mile off could probably hear it, and Chris starts laughing as if it’s funny. </p><p>“Shut up. The Yankees got their asses kicked by these bastards weeks ago,” Ethan points out. Chris keeps laughing.</p><p>Ethan gets so pissed off he turns the game off before it’s over. </p><p>“You can’t win them all,” Chris says, visibly holding back laughter.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to bed. Baseball fucking sucks.”</p><p>“Come on, man, have another drink, don’t be a downer.”</p><p>Ethan shakes his head. “Honestly, I feel pretty tired. I kind of have a headache, too.”</p><p>“I’ll grab you some painkillers, I left some in the car.”</p><p>Ethan wants to tell him not to worry, but Chris is already out of the door. He suddenly realizes he’s shivering, reminding him to get to work on the central heating tomorrow. The thermostat isn’t working, but it reads below zero.  </p><p>The fire only does so much, but he goes and pushes the mattress farther toward it anyway. It’s hard to believe that in a few weeks, he’ll be moving his family in here, proud of his and Chris’ hard work. </p><p>The door reopens, and with it, a howling draft. Sprinkles of snow gather on the threshold before melting under Chris' boots. The wind is shut out, but the cold remains. </p><p>Ethan's eyes finds Chris', with a glint of determination. "I know I asked you before," he says quietly. "But we can share. I don't want you to be cold."</p><p>Chris doesn't respond for a moment. He tosses the pack of Tylenol for Ethan to catch, who pops a couple dry, grinding the chalky pills under his teeth.</p><p>"Yeah, well, <em> I </em> don't want to make you uncomfortable," Chris says eventually. </p><p>"You won't. Come here, please."</p><p>Ethan sees something flit across Chris' face that he doesn't believe he should have been privy to. It was uncontrollable, a surge of gratitude and affection. Chris masks it, but it's too late. </p><p>When he awkwardly positions himself alongside Ethan on the double mattress, he is painstakingly meticulous that they aren't touching each other in any way.</p><p>Ethan is rational enough to know that this goes further than base instinct, but it's true that heat-seeking behavior doesn't factor in gender or morality. He turns to lay on his back, and blankly tells the ceiling, "We'll never warm up if you stay so far away from me."</p><p>Chris' willpower seems to dissipate and he takes it as a challenge, moving closer and putting a hand on Ethan's waist. With no objection, he shifts to spoon up against him. </p><p>"Alright?" Chris grunts, and Ethan can feel his embarrassment through the tension in his muscles. </p><p>He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to turn around and say he hasn’t actually been held for years, and it feels so good it’s short-circuiting his brain. </p><p>"Yeah," he whispers, more hoarsely than intended. Impulsively, he covers Chris' hands with his own. They are so much bigger and rougher than Mia's, unmistakably male with their corded veins and dark hair. </p><p>It feels like cheating, and he hates himself, for being a cheater, and showing zero fucking signs his entire life of being attracted to men until Chris hooked an arm around his waist and murmured, “You’re really tense,” into the crook of his neck. </p><p>His teeth chatter, and Chris pulls him closer. Ethan swallows, his mouth dry as sandpaper. </p><p>“Tell me to go back to the floor and I will," comes the promise whispered right against his skin, and if he didn't have gooseflesh from the cold, he would have it from the buzz of that intimacy. </p><p>“Don’t.”</p><p>He almost sighs it; afraid to shatter the moment, greedy to make the most of it. </p><p>Chris exhales. His arms bracket closer around Ethan’s middle, pressing them close so their body heat seeps into each other. “It’s okay. It’s just cold.” One of his hands goes to scratch through Ethan’s hair, like soothing a wild animal. “You still got that headache?”</p><p>“No,” Ethan whispers. He doesn’t move, and Chris doesn’t stop playing with his hair, as if he’s a girl, or a child. But he does nothing to stop it, because he’s been starved of this all-encompassing kind of touch for too long. </p><p>He doesn’t remember saying anything else, or falling asleep. When he wakes up, he feels a strange and overwhelming sense of loss. He blinks back sleep, sitting up covered in blankets to see Chris watching him from a distance, looking pale. </p><p>Ethan rubs his eyes. His headache is gone, but he still feels shitty. </p><p>“Morning,” he rasps, just for something to say.</p><p>Chris doesn’t reply. He gets up and boils the kettle, preparing coffee for them both. As Ethan’s tentatively sipping it, Chris says, “Do you remember anything about last night?”</p><p>Ethan’s gaze snaps up to his, feeling defensive. It’s not as if they had sex. “Yeah,” he says, flippantly. “So?”</p><p>Chris seems to relax a little. “Nothing. I just…”</p><p>
  <em> Thought you would wake up sober and regret it. Thought you would hate me for doing gay stuff to you like playing with your hair.  </em>
</p><p>“I get it,” Ethan mutters. “It’s fine. I… I prefer not to be alone,” he admits.</p><p>“So you came here. Alone.” There’s a mocking edge to it, just Chris’ sense of humor. </p><p>“I had to figure some things out,” Ethan says. “Things at home… haven’t been easy.” It makes him feel a pang of guilt, that he’d ever spend time in someone’s arms other than Mia’s. He misses her, and he also thrives without her, in the same way she fares better when he isn’t around. They love each other deeply, but the past year or so has been living in an echo chamber of trauma and twisted thinking, which they put aside for the illusion of contentment they project onto their daughter.</p><p>“Did you ever have someone?” Ethan asks, voice low.</p><p>Chris looks away. Ethan waits for him to be ready, the coffee scalding his throat.</p><p>“Yeah,” Chris replies, a little raw. “He died. Because of me, really. I haven’t been with anyone since.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Chris nods, taking a second to compose himself before he adds, “It was half a decade ago now.”</p><p>Ethan wonders what he was like, the guy that Chris was in love with. He senses it’s still too painful to ask about, in a similar way to his own grief when he thought he’d lost Mia.</p><p>After what happened last night, the way Chris had treated him like a China vase, with reverence and care; Ethan feels like he’s allowed to ask this question without coming off as a raging homophobe.</p><p>“Do you have feelings for me?”</p><p>Chris laughs, reflexively and without humor. When Ethan says nothing, still expectant, he says, “It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>They’re supposed to pretend it never happened, just the result of onset hypothermia and alcohol. Every day, they work in tandem to bring the lodge closer to a livable state. Furnishings, electricity, windows, painting the walls and repairing the holes in the roof, where crows are nesting. </p><p>The days pass more quickly than they did when he was working alone. </p><p>They use Chris’ rented car to drive into the closest town and buy some supplies. All the way there, Chris plays rock classics, belting them out as if he’s going on twenty instead of fifty. Ethan doesn't sing, but... he's almost tempted.</p><p>When they reach the city and he finally has a signal, he texts Mia on impulse.</p><p>
  <em> Drove into Borșa to get light fixtures bulbs etc. Chris keeping me company. Love and miss you both </em>
</p><p>He’s distracted the whole day, guilty and confused by his own feelings. Chris acts as if everything is fine, which he both hates and appreciates. They buy more than they need, captivated by the market’s trinkets. Chris buys him a new set of hex keys after he misplaced the old ones. He forces himself not to read into the gesture. </p><p>They look at furniture like dining tables and sofas and beds. Ethan’s getting a lot of it brought over from their home in Texas, but there won’t be enough room for everything. He needs an office desk and chair seeing as he’ll mainly be managing his business from home, and they’ll need an extra bed, because Mia wanted her own bedroom. He’d vehemently objected at first; seeing it as a fatal sign that their marriage was on the rocks. Eventually, he realized she just needed her own space. </p><p>Still, it hurt. He thinks he’s trying too hard to go back in time, to before Mia went missing. They’re different people now.</p><p>Ethan imagines what the cabin will look like when it’s finished, and it’s easy to picture the interior, but difficult to conjure inhabitants.</p><p>Just before they leave, his phone buzzes in his pocket.</p><p>
  <em> I love you too. I just want us to be together again !! x </em>
</p><p>He reads it, and he wants to cry, but no tears will come. He wants this limbo to end, as much as he wants to stay in purgatory forever, halfway up the ladder, tucking himself back into Chris’ warmth. </p><p>Chris seems to have a sixth sense regarding Ethan’s emotional state, so he passes him the AUX cord and doesn’t even complain about his ‘pensioner’s taste in music’ as they drive well into the night. </p><p>Then again, they’re exhausted, and faced with the same sleeping arrangements. </p><p>Chris stoically arranges himself on the floor, propped up by a comforter and a dusty pillow. By morning, they’re a mess of blankets and limbs inextricably wrapped around each other that can’t entirely be blamed on the cold. They don’t talk about it, because that’s the only way it can continue.</p><p>Ethan hasn’t tried to fix the heating for three weeks. </p><p>One night, Chris circles his fingers around the thick line of scarring on Ethan’s wrist. “How is it?” he asks. When they are this close, everything is whispered. </p><p>Ethan makes a vague sound. He’d been in for two surgeries as they tried to fix up his arm, and another three for his leg. That was only the half of it. He’d been in for testing for months, as they tried to analyze the effects of the Mold on his body. Everything was inconclusive. Just enough for them to sign off on Mia’s pregnancy.</p><p>They were worried they might have to amputate his leg, but he ended up lucky, just with a slight limp. “I lost some fine motor skills,” he replies. “I’m right-handed, though. I guess it could be worse.”</p><p>Chris snickers.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“No, no. I just-” </p><p>Ethan twists around to frown at him, trying to make out his expression in the dark.</p><p>“Could’ve needed some help, that’s all,” Chris says innocently.</p><p>Ethan turns to lay on his back again, thinking that one through. His face heats up a little, because it’s kind of the first innuendo Chris has made. He’s normally pretty careful not to hint at those things. Ethan doesn’t feel disgusted, or creeped out. He feels like the tension between them is going to boil over, and this cowardly, “bromance passing” arrangement that they have going on is not going to be enough. He’s not going to be able to stop himself, because he has to know what it’s like. It’s unsettling, knowing that you can’t trust yourself to do the sensible thing, the right thing. He doesn’t know where his head’s at, but it’s no excuse.</p><p>“Only if you want,” Chris adds gently. </p><p>That’s the problem; he <em> does </em> want. And that gentleness has long since made him uncomfortable, that Chris is being so patient, as if he’s holding out for something. Like this can ever leave the cabin. Like Ethan isn’t already a husband and father.  </p><p>“I’m married,” he rasps. </p><p>He doesn’t say, ‘I’m straight’, even though that’s probably what he should have said. It would feel hollow, after everything he’s done.  </p><p>“I know. I know,” Chris murmurs. </p><p>The way he says it is so fucking bleak that Ethan swallows around a lump in his throat. There’s nothing he can say to make it better, settling for a useless, “I’m sorry.” </p><p>Chris shushes him, and he holds him close in such a way that Ethan feels safe for the first time since he left Dulvey. It’s a novelty, being protected, instead of the protector. He has so many responsibilities, and the pressure’s on to provide for his family. Being able to let go like this is a gift. He wants to say thank you, but the most meaningful ways of expression have always eluded him. Time passes too quickly, in their quiet, peaceful corner of the world.</p><p>Chris is leaving today. </p><p>“I wish I could help you with the finishing touches,” he says, looking up appraisingly at the cabin; its repaired roof and new windows. “It looks great, though. We did good.”</p><p>Ethan leans forward; a stupid, impulsive brush of the lips, over before it’s begun. Chris cups his face. They don’t kiss again. Ethan doesn’t think he’d be able to let Chris go, in this dangerous,<em> please-don’t-leave-me-alone </em> kind of way.</p><p>Chris smiles at him, somewhat sadly. “I’ll see you soon, alright? Take care of Evie.”</p><p>Ethan can’t speak, so he just nods.</p><p> </p>
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